"If you've ever loved Stephen King, or John
Carpenter, or 70s/80s Spielberg, or maybe just 80s music, then Stranger
Things is liable to be up your alley!"

You've probably heard or read some version of that somewhere by now, and it's not untrue.

Stranger Things is steeped in the 80’s in a lot of ways, but that’s never the real narrative
focus of the show. The show isn't about the
80’s, it just inhabits that decade
(very enjoyably/evocatively, for this viewer). Those of you who didn't live
through the 80’s, or who didn't very much like the 80’s, will still get
intelligent, dark, self-contained-but-potentially-expansive sci-fi/horror
with a hefty helping of humor and heart. Sounds pretty good, right? How about
this: It's also winningly sincere throughout, which feels rare, and not faux-
or painfully sincere, which feels rarer.

Stranger
Things is a good time in general, regardless of your feelings about The Greed
Decade, is what I'm saying. What's the show about? I'm so glad you asked!

Young Will Byers has gone missing, throwing the quiet town of Hawkins, Indiana into disarray. His mother - single, close to the poverty line, already frayed at the edges - draws the attention and sympathy of local police Chief Hopper, a self-destructive, short-tempered, and deeply damaged man who is similarly barely keeping it together.

At the same time a strange young girl, marked like a lab animal, furtively scurries into town pursued by sinister men and women from a government facility on the edge of town. She's given a place to hide by Will Byers's best friends, three squabbling, tight-knit nerds, who find that she's connected to Will's disappearance.

Meanwhile, the older sister of one of the boys has just started dating a popular guy, and this subplot initially feels both extraneous and dull - like a lesser John Hughes effort inelegantly jammed into the proceedings - until that narrative thread refutes audience expectation and veers neatly sideways into the main storyline.

That's the basic setup for Stranger
Things, and it's all I'd want to know about the plot before I saw it, other
than "Was it any good?"

Yes!

Stranger
Things is remarkably assured, which is doubly surprising given that its
creators/directors/writers, the Duffer brothers, aren't well-seasoned veterans.
The scripts are tight, the dialogue natural overall, the direction and
cinematography impressively moody, atmospheric, and cinematic*. The show cares
about its characters to an admirable degree. And the actors are all pretty
great**.

* Stranger Things marks the first time I
have ever thought “Shawn Levy
is talented!” That’s not meant to be mean, but nothing Levy has involved
himself in before this has ever struck me as anything other than “vaguely
passable family fare.”

**Depending
on who you are you may or may not enjoy Matthew Modine's performance. Yes,
MATTHEW MODINE is in this. You may also find yourself taken with, or cold
toward, Winona Ryder. I think she's admirably solid, if a little too young for
the role, but your mileage may vary.

Was Stranger Things "Great"?

I dunno!

…No?

…Maybe? What do you think?

My conception of "Great" may be (probably
is) wildly different from yours. Devin Faraci of Birth.Movies.Death didn’t like
the show at all. Kyle Pinion of GeekRex and Comics Beat was cool on it as a
whole. People are unique and individual pop culture-absorbing snowflakes. For
me, what matters is that Stranger Things
is a solidly entertaining way to spend time in front of your facescreen of
choice, as should already be evident*.

*With
some (spoilery) reservations. I’ll discuss those below.

That's that, newbies. Go hence, and view the show. Or do not. Or just do what I do and watch two episodes to see if it
hooks you. So endeth the non-spoilery section of this piece. Those of you
who've already seen the show, this next section is all for you. HERE BE
SPOILERS. Don't read what follows unless
you've seen the show or don't care about being spoiled. Cool? Cool.

CHAPTER TWO

Spoiler
Things, Or, The Art of Withholding

Let’s talk a little turkey.

There’s a lot to like about Stranger Things, from its solid casting and its
smart and referential scripts/direction, to its murky, evocative atmosphere and
its grounded performances. But most interesting to me is the show's desire/willingness
to keep its mysteries mysterious. By refusing
to offer up much in the way of detail about its own mythology the show deploys one
of fiction’s oldest, most potent tools and riskiest high-wire acts: the art of
withholding.

All fiction practices that particular art on some
level. When someone refers to a book as a “page-turner,” we know they’re saying
that they needed to know what happened next – were in fact compelled to
discover what happened next – and they’re often saying it precisely because the
author has been carefully or instinctively withholding character or plot information
from the readers in order to help propel them through the narrative via their
own curiosity. Cliffhangers – in print, on TV, and on the silver screen – are prime
examples of the art of withholding. They can send their audience into fits of
bliss over the possibilities presented (see: "we're gonna have to take the boy," in the Season
One finale of LOST), or send their audience into fits of (frankly embarrassing)
rage (see: The finale of last season’s The Walking Dead). When withholding
on a “story-mythology” level is done well it’s maybe the most effective trick
that a fiction can pull on me. In fact, almost all of my favorite television
shows are on some level exercises in story-mythology withholding: LOST, Twin
Peaks, Buffy/Angel, The Lost Room*.

Stranger
Things understands the power of story-mythology withholding; Shawn Levy and the
Duffer brothers know that creepy and mysterious things are often creepier and
more mysterious when they're unexplained. The show’s main issue in this regard
lies in the highly subjective way that withholding is received by the audience:
how much is not enough? How much is too much? The show arguably gives us juuuust
enough in the way of explanation about the background details of its world in
order for the audience to make sense of what's happening. It withholds enough from us so that the
Upside Down and its petal-faced, murderous inhabitant(s?)*, Matthew Modine and
Eleven, the bio-organic "gateway" between dimensions, the purpose(s)
of the Department of Energy - all remain compellingly and/or frustratingly
inexplicable.

I say frustrating, because this kind of plot/mythos-related withholding either
works or it doesn't. Whether it does or does not depends, in part, on your
personal preferences, and on the manner in which that withholding is handled.

* Is
there just the one monster inhabiting the Upside Down? Or are there several? This
detail was genuinely confusing to me. The Duffer Brothers have said in
interviews that there is one monster, and so that would appear to close out the
question. But it really only opens up more questions. If there’s just the one
monster, then why are there eggs in the Upside Down? Why is the petal-faced monster
doing…whatever its doing to Will Byers and to poor, poor Barb if not to breed
other monster-babies? Why does it seem as though Petal-Face loses a foot in the
Byers house, but seems to have both his feet later on?

For this viewer, Stranger Things practices the art of withholding well enough, but ultimately not as well as it could or should have. The possibility of another season, in which some more of the show’s background mythos is exposed and explored, alleviates potential disappointment, but all in all, what Stranger Things ultimately accomplishes via withholding is (1) to make its tale a “page-turner” (success!) while (2) leaving this particular audience member somewhat deflated due to a suspicion of hollowness at the show mythology’s core (sadness!).

The Upside Down itself is strikingly, hauntingly
realized, and as a supernatural setting it’s fairly spectacular. It’s also
literally empty: a negative image of the “real” world, devoid of people or
animals or even multiple large predators. It appears to be populated solely by
one petal-faced monster, a couple of tentacle things, an egg, and some dead
bodies. We learn absolutely nothing about the Upside Down over the course of
the season except that it’s another dimension. On the one hand, this is great.
Our lack of knowledge lends the place – which is wonderfully brought to life in
large part via practical effects-work – a feeling of genuine otherworldliness.
On the other hand, the particular WAY in which the Duffers withhold any
information on the Upside Down feels
as though it might be because they just made up a space for their monster, and
didn’t think the rest through.

Take LOST, as example. On a very general,
overall level, that show was always careful to suggest a history behind its mysteries. When Locke or Jack stumbled onto
some secret station or ancient ruin viewers would notice a wealth of detail
seeded into the show that gave the sense of these eerie, otherworldly locations
having a story behind them. That sense of history made every mystery (well,
almost every mystery) that much more compelling. Stranger Things doesn’t do
that. It’s a defensible choice, no doubt, but it’s also, subjectively, a choice
that leaves me feeling cooler than I’d like.

This, far more than any pop cultural anachronism, is my biggest issue with the show. I don't care about the relative likelihood of whether a teenager in the specific year that the show is set in would listen to a specific song, nor what that says about the creative motivations of the show or the "cred" of its makers. That topic is, to be frank, utterly uninteresting; nitpickery at its most aggravating and useless. It's clear that the Duffers love all this stuff, and that they're enjoying including it. Why does it matter whether Jonathan would have an Evil Dead poster in his room?

It doesn't. Not to this guy. What matters is whether the Upside Down and all its has any meaning, utility, or purpose, other than as a well-dressed set.

It’s possible to craft some thoughts on the Stranger
Things mythology, but it’s not very satisfying because there’s so little to it
so far. What’s the egg? Is it where the monster comes from? Or is it a source
of food for the monster? Is the Upside Down a literal other dimension? Is it
more of a collective/universal mindscape, with the Demogorgon acting as the
literalization of a predatory subconscious? Do the slugs that Will was made to
ingest act like Alien larva and use humans as hosts? Or do they transform
humans into monsters? Maybe most naggingly: has the monster always been able to
pass into the “real” world? Because it seems to be able to do so at whim. So
what’s the point/purpose of the portal that Eleven inadvertently creates? How
does a second one appear in the woods? ANSWER MEEEEEE.

…However, very much in its favor, Stranger Things
is clearly less interested in telling a story about secret programs and the
Upside Down than it is in telling a story about the people who unwittingly
encounter those things. For all of the show’s copious reference
points/homages/blatant thefts, that's really the show’s most genuinely,
enjoyably King-ish/Spielberg-ian quality: it tells a believably grounded story
about small town people encountering the unknown using archetypical characters
that are also, somehow, gently subversive in how those archetypes end up
feeling dimensional, human and real in pleasantly interesting ways. The
characters outweigh my suspicion of hollowness at the show’s
center. It’s thanks to them, and to a few very well-chosen story-beats, that I
can write the sort of positive review I posted in “Chapter One.”

Two character examples that serve to illustrate the whole:

(1)Nestled
inside Stranger Things is a mini-John Hughes-ian tale which at first
feels depressingly extraneous, then snaps into focus when it veers sharply into
the main storyline. Convention and archetype dictate that preppy rich kid Steve
be revealed as shallow/antagonistic toward poor (literally/figuratively),
misunderstood Jonathan, alienating Nancy and helping to reveal to her that
Jonathan is a sweet soul who should totally, like, be her boyfriend, The show
feints in that direction, but then takes a different, more interesting path. Jonathan
is shown as sweet, yes, but also sort of creepy (shades of American Beauty).
Steve is revealed to be genuinely good-hearted. We expect Nancy to end the show
paired with Jonathan, but instead she’s shown snuggling up to Steve, who
rejects his stereotypically snide former friends. It’s not a startling or a
groundbreaking storytelling, but it does gently subvert expectation in
surprising and enjoyable ways. The show enjoys doing this with its characters –
letting them be more rounded, in big and little ways, than they might otherwise
be in a story of this kind. To wit:

(2)Minor characters
like Mr. Frank the science teacher are given small, sharp splashes of
definition in their relatively brief screen time, making them a little more
than just the murder victims or exposition-delivery mechanisms that they
typically are. The show takes a few moments to show Mr. Frank relaxing at home
while watching a very appropriate John Carpenter flick alongside his Asian
girlfriend*. We’re used to seeing “science teacher” characters in these sorts
of stories as asexual blanks, and for a minute, we’re given the sense that Mr.
Frank has an actual life we’re not privy to - even if the story being told
still relegates the character to an expositional role. Touches like this one
turn what could be rote into something more specific and personal.

*Had
this show been made in the 80s, Mr. Frank would very likely not have had an
Asian girlfriend.

Stranger Things has an interest in, and empathy for,
the vast majority of its characters. That interest and empathy are, I’d argue,
the reason for the show’s success. Yes, people online can be annoying in their
effusive praise for the show, and yes, it’s true that the show’s genre elements
are all sourced from elsewhere. But the characters matter, and the show’s
writers/directors/producers/actors clearly care about those characters in a
refreshingly unironic way.

Along with the characters, it’s specifically the
show’s willingness to eschew Happy Endings that makes it feel like more than just
an exercise in enjoyable references and nostalgia. The show’s final scene, in
which Will Byers coughs up a slug-thing and watches the bathroom around him
transform into the Upside Down for an eerie moment, before returning to “our”
world, and to his family, carrying the secret of that moment inside of him, is
quietly devastating. It’s also the moment that ultimately sells me on the show
as a whole. My disappointment with the lack of depth in the show’s mythology is
finally countered, very nicely, by the sense of disquiet and foreboding that
those images leave in my mind. Will may be back, but he’s changed in some way,
and there’s Something Terrible lurking around him still. If Stranger Things
never gets a second season, the show’s final moments serve as an appropriately
haunting and unresolved ending.

CHAPTER THREE

Should
It Stay or Should It Go?

As of this writing, Stranger Things has not
been renewed for a second season. I find it extremely difficult to believe that
a renewal is not forthcoming, given the sheer amount of love that the show has received
online from critics and audiences. Even if the actual viewing numbers for the
show as a whole are average by Netflix’ standards, the show is clearly becoming
one of “those” properties for which fans develop deep (and sometimes, to be
honest, extremely annoying) affection, and those fans are helping to expand
Netflix’s brand in ways that aren’t quantifiable via viewing metrics. The show’s
potential is borne out in the way it’s taken off across the internet as a
meme-source, a fan-art accelerant, a think-piece generator (hello!), and a source
of growing grumbling from certain sectors that Stranger Things doesn’t
live up to the hype, that all the fan affection is extremely tiresome, that if
people were REAL fans they would watch some other thing, etc. etc. etc.

I would guess that Netflix will announce a second
season for the show by the end of the year, and that they are waiting (a) on the
initial hype/excitement cycle to die down (a renewal will reignite interest in
the show and draw more viewers; do it too soon and you’d deaden that effect);
(b) for the conclusion of Finn Wolfhard’s filming time on Andy Muschetti’s
upcoming adaptation of Stephen King’s IT (they need Mike Wheeler!); (c) on the
boring-but-necessary work of negotiating, drawing up, and executing the necessary
agreements and contracts; and possibly (d) for people to get a little
disinterested/distracted - at which point they’ll begin secretly filming to
capture the kids before they age any further, and THEN announce a second season.

So, let’s assume for the moment that Stranger
Things will return and that The Duffer Brothers, who have gone vaguely on
record to talk about their season two ideas, will be allowed to pursue those
ideas. Where does the show go next?

We know
that the story will likely pick up at least one year after the events of the
first season. We now know that the Duffers have a show bible containing a LOT
more information on the Upside Down and its monstrous inhabitant/s (hooray!).
We know that the Duffers are interested in exploring how the events of season
one have affected their cast – not only Will Byers, who is decidedly NOT okay,
but everyone else who was exposed to the apparent toxicity of the Upside Down.
We know that Chief Hopper has developed some kind of relationship, whether
voluntary or coerced, with the mysterious folks at the Department of Energy. We
know that Eleven vanished, but isn’t dead, and might just be skulking around in
the woods or might be a monster now. Or something*.

*Your thoughts, theories and
ideas are encouraged. Post them below, or send them to me on twitter: @M_Morse

What we
don’t know is where the Duffers will take
any of those developments – in large part because (as I’ve harped on to increasingly
diminished returns) we don’t know anything of real worth about the show’s
mythology. Will Stranger Things expand its mythos and deepen its mysteries?
Will it reveal itself as handsome and loaded with charms, but ultimately not as
satisfying as it could have been? We’ll just have to see whether Netflix does the right thing and renews the show for a second season.

Monday, August 22, 2016

So. I finally got around to seeing Suicide Squad.
I'm an avid comics fan and I see most of these adaptations in the theater, but
even I took my time with this one given (1) how thoroughly and completely the
film was trashed, critically, and more importantly (because they trashed Batman
v Superman as well, but I really liked that one, warts and all):
(2) my indifference to the version of the Suicide Squad that Warner Brothers
chose to bring to the screen.

I've got some thoughts. Specifically: this could've
been a muuuuuuuuuch better film if they'd just taken some time to ask themselves some good, honest questions about the sort of film they were making. I was genuinely enthusiastic about Batman v
Superman earlier this year, based in part off its gonzo, mythic vibe and the
strange, but definitely bold and ultimately defensible, decision-making at
the script stage. I felt no such enthusiasm leaving the theater after Suicide
Squad. Say what you will about BvS: that movie has the courage of
its convictions, and a fair amount on its mind. Those who disliked it can
still, I think, acknowledge that. Batman v Superman is an inarguably
divisive movie, but there’s enough grist there that two people can have a fun
and interesting conversation about their perspectives on the film. Suicide
Squad is dumber, nastier, and far less interesting. It's a ramshackle,
paper-thin tale (barely) held together by multiple editing teams and some surprisingly
solid performances.

It didn't have to be that way.

According to reports, director David Ayers had six weeks to hammer out his
script and get things rolling. Is that true? I have no idea, but a feeling of
being crunched for time is palpably obvious in the final product. Had Ayers
been given the time he needed and, ideally, a writing partner in order to do a
few more drafts, we could have had a solid and genuinely interesting film with Suicide
Squad, instead of the half-baked-if-well-intentioned, two-hour movie
trailer that we got. How might Ayers and Warner Brothers have done this? I'm so
glad you hypothetically asked!

1. Jettison June Moon

Enchantress is a nifty special effect, and Cara Delevingne is a surprisingly natural
screen presence, but June and her creepy looking alter ego are in the wrong
film. Their story doesn't belong in this movie. In fact, none of this magical stuff does, so buhbye Katana as well.*

*I don't know why Katana is in the film at
all. There's no reason she should be. She does absolutely nothing worthwhile.

For one, Amanda Waller’s Task Force X is absurdly outmatched during the course
of the film’s runtime, and by all rights they should have been incinerated and/or
transformed into cheap-looking, disposable monster-people, like, multiple times.
But let’s set aside the real issue of threat-scale here for a moment (that’s
the focus of fix #2, directly below), and focus on why utilizing Enchantress as
the film’s villainess otherwise works against the film on at least two levels:

A. It's at odds with the reason we've all shown up to see a Suicide Squad
movie. Namely: moral ambiguity and murky alliances. Nothing about a magical
otherworldly threat that will Destroy Everything is ambiguous or murky.
It's self-evidently in everyone's self-interest to band together and fight.* Whether
the Squad will get along well enough to defeat Gozer is never, ever in doubt.
Ever. And that’s a massive mistake, right out of the gate. In order for Suicide
Squad to work at all you need to lean hard into the concept, and that can’t be
done (well, or effectively) unless you’re actively playing with the Squad’s
loyalty and commitment throughout the film. When, in the film’s climax,
Enchantress offers Deadshot et al the opportunity to join her, that offer is
laughable and pointless.

*Self-evident to everyone but poor
Slipknot/Adam Beach, who may as well have "Appointed cannon-fodder"
stamped on his furrowed, useless brow.

B. June Moon going rogue and becoming a threat undermines Waller's credibility
and authority out of the gate and doesn’t do what the film clearly wants it to
do, which is to show Waller as someone who will do whatever she feels is
necessary to maintain security and increase her own power while also justifying
the decision to give her that power. Waller's competence and control are prematurely
undermined in Suicide Squad, and they shouldn't be - not yet. For strict
reasons of creating compelling drama Waller deserves an introductory film where
she's on top throughout. She should be DC's negative image of Nick Fury -
competent and scarily ruthless and (most importantly) undeniably effective. Having
the main threat be of Waller's making right now, in the very first film,
decapitates a lot of future dramatic opportunities for the sake of ill-judged expedience
AND robs us of the chance to see Viola Davis in total steely control for the
entire film. We want to see that. We NEED to see that. Not just because it'd be
a pleasure to watch (and it would be: Viola Davis is perfectly cast), but because Waller needs to convince the audience
and her superiors that this team/series is needed. We are not convinced.
Neither should the military types who are in charge of initially greenlighting,
then continuing, the Task Force X program be convinced. Based on the events of this film
Waller should never be allowed near a position of power again.

To make a truly effective introductory Suicide Squad movie you need to
introduce a threat that isn't of
Walker's own making; one that isn't absurdly
powerful, one that doesn’t so easily
bind a group of psychotics and/or felons together into a team…and one that
doesn't create sky portal thingies (no more sky portals. Ever. We’re done. Moratorium
called. Ixnay on the y skay ortals pay).

Tl;dr: Bye, June!

So, if Warner Brothers shouldn’t use ancient
demoness/goddesses as their villain, who should they use? That brings us to fix
#2.

2. Thematically tie the film to the larger universe by having the Squad go
after the arms dealer who supplied Lex's weaponry in Superman v Batman, and
thus create an appropriate, realistic threat-level for Task Force X

This both furthers the inter-film synergy Warner
Brothers is attempting AND furthers the drama in Suicide Squadwithout burdening the film by making it
carry a lot of unnecessary DCEU baggage. Bear with me a moment as I outline two
of the most obvious ways that Warner Brothers could have accomplished:

A. Make the arms dealer in question someone like Morgan Edge; leader of DC
Comics' arms-dealing Intergang organization (feel free to rename them if “Intergang”
is just too comic booky for your tastes). Intergang deals in specialized
advanced weaponry, and they’re intimately connected with DC’s Darkseid/New Gods
characters without there being any need to overtly explain anything about that connection in their initial
appearance. Make Intergang the ones behind the bullets that Lois investigated
during Batman v Superman. Reveal that they've been introducing arms to the
market that are beyond anything seen on earth. Just where those arms come from
can be left unsolved/unsaid - though fans of DC will know that it flows
from Apokolips, home of Darkseid, who was hinted at heavily in BvS and will be provide threats aplenty for Justice League.

An organization like that provides limitless cannon fodder without invoking any
sky portals (and if concerns about killing off too many humans is a problem,
introduce robotic/engineered “foot soliders” for Task Force X to primarily
battle). To make the stakes less impersonal, establish that the prime physical
threat of the film is someone like The Toyman - a classic Superman villain and
also-ran. He's suitably B-list, quirky, and in the vein of what Ayers and WB
are clearly aiming for: a left-of-center, Mountain Dew-ish form of EXXXTREME. *
He’s a member of Intergang now. Congrats, Toyman (or whoever you’d prefer to
fill the “lead henchman” role).

*I don't take issue with that, in the
abstract. Ayers' tone and the film's actors/characters all hit a trashily
enjoyable note in SS; it's the story that fails them. Using someone like Toyman
seems to fit that note, but feel free to substitute in your own b-list villain.

The above scenario is all you need to build a
credible and FAR more interesting threat for Suicide Squad: Waller tasks
the Squad with shutting down Intergang's Midway City operations. Chaos ensues.

But let’s say that the above – basically The Raid,
with supervillains – isn’t to your corporate executive tastes. Let’s say that,
instead, you want to ensure your film has a massive opening. Let’s say you want
The Joker in this movie (and, if you’re a WB executive, you very clearly want
The Joker in all your films). Just go with option B, which is even simpler and
more streamlined:

B. Have the Squad, including Harley Quinn, tasked with bringing in The Joker
alive. Introduce as well a lower-level baddie whom Task Force X can get more
physical with. Chaos ensues. That’s it. Simple. Direct. Full of opportunities
for bad behavior, ethical murkiness, and double-crosses. You can even use the
film to get Joker into Arkham Asylum for Affleck's solo Batman movie.

Either level of threat is right for the sort of team that Ayers assembled for
his film. They present human-scale challenges and open the door to ethical
issues and temptation. Can they be bought? Turned? How willing are they to back
each other if the threat isn't Utter Global Annihilation? How much more
dangerous are these characters to each other?

That's the stuff that interests me
about a Suicide Squad movie, and they’re the only arguable bases to make a
movie about them. Without any of that, Suicide Squad is a lot of teenage
attitude looking for something to rebel against.

3. Shake The Audience Up A Little

Have the Squad (A) kill Morgan Edge (to be replaced,
if desired, by Bruno Mannheim as head of Intergang in a future DCEU film), or
(B) capture Joker, and defeat Toyman/lower-level baddie, bringing Toyman/LLB
into custody. Give the Squad a celebratory moment/moment of reflection. Then undercut
that moment completely and reveal that Waller has signed Toyman/LLB to Task
Force X. This immediately destroys any celebration/reflection, reinforces
Waller’s determination to do whatever it takes/bend or break rules/not care
about anyone’s feelings, and doesn’t undermine her capableness in the process.

Have Squad members betray the Squad, or seem like they will. Have them act unpredictably and unwisely. Have some fun with the audience or don't make this sort of film.

4. Re The Joker: No f*cking tattoos or
grillwork.

Leto is fine in the role. He's got eerily dead eyes
and an appreciably homicidal air about him. All the ornamentation just
distracts. It's not daring. It's just "Joker with a lot of shit on
his face." Leto got a ton of terrible press for this film, and by all
accounts he sounds like a nightmare to work with, but again: he’s fine in the
role dramatically, not some unmitigated disaster. In his next appearance just have
him ditch the Lil' Wayne accoutrements and be the chilly blank he's meant to
be; a Thin White Duke of Chaos. Don't even bother commenting on it. Of course
Joker changes his appearance.

Keep the characters the same. Keep the casting the same. Will Smith, Margot
Robbie, Viola Davis, Jay Hernandez…even Jai “Boring Blank” Courtney: they’re
all pretty great in the film. Let them inhabit a better film with a more
stripped down, "realistic" milieu that does not feature ancient
goddesses or sky portals or metal teeth. Let the characters be genuinely dangerous
and unpredictable. Let them be a Suicide Squad in more than just name only. That's
a film I'd consider worth watching. You could do all those things and also
secure a PG-13. You'd make a much better film
in the process, on top of having what looks like a total ball while making it.

Welcome, Foolish Mortals..

Welcome to MMorse Writes! - a resurrected home for the various-and-sundry scribblings of MMorse, author of the upcoming book "Speaking Backward: Exploring the Themes and Mythology of Twin Peaks."

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